


Of Curiosity and Unanswered Questions

by elliot_cant_write



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo, grisha - Fandom
Genre: Nobody has ever written about Privyet?, anyway here we get something that vaguely resembles a backstory!, hope he's an actual character and I didn't just imagine him, im sorry I can't tag things it's like texting which I also can't do, its fun I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliot_cant_write/pseuds/elliot_cant_write
Summary: A boy with pretty eyes and a soft disposition somehow manages to make his way to the lowest part of Ravka. Privyet is, understandably, intrigued.





	

Apparently the boy had arrived in the dead of night, long after Privyet had gone to sleep. Tucked into the warm nest of blankets that he called home, it wasn't until that morning that he was aware that a new person had joined their small group.  
The boy didn't bother to present himself by any name, for reasons unknown to Privyet but respected nonetheless. It wasn't unusual to come across somebody on the run.  
However, he couldn't help but note that the boy hardly seemed the general type who made their home in the gutters. It was people like the twins, hardened and dirtied by a society that had rejected everything about them to the point that they were all sharp edges and rough voices. This boy had the palest, softest hands Privyet had ever seen and the elegant Ravkan accent that only those of the highest status seemed to posses. An abnormality, certainly. And a risk.  
But he was smart, smarter than any of the rest of them, so they didn't turn him away.  
Privyet didn't interact with the boy until later. The boy was fiddling with the wheel of their long-grounded, kind of pathetic looking ship. What he was trying to achieve, Privyet wasn't sure, but he certainly managed to give off an air of confidence while doing so.  
Privyet hesitantly asked if the boy needed any help and when he was met with bright hazel eyes and an easy smile, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The boy responded with a question of his own and Privyet found himself falling into easy conversation with this truly odd stranger.  
They talked primarily about the boat, the boy cautiously sidestepping any questions that were even vaguely personal. Admitedly, Privyet was being more forward than he usually would have been with a new arrival, but he couldn't help it. He was curious.  
"Do you have a name?" He tried, "Or something I can call you?" But the boy just smiled and showed him how to tie a complicated knot, effectively manipulating their conversation yet again.  
The boy was so careful, but he was young and clearly had at one point or another been fairly sheltered from the world. He hadn't learned the survival skills the rest of them had. This was apparent in small missteps -he mentioned a tutor, lessons that he had ignored in favour of looking at a book on the pirates that sailed the sea in the days of old. He didn't seem aware of the reveal so Privyet didn't mention it either.  
That night, he tried again.  
The twins had lit a small fire, something they could all get warm around before settling in for the night. It wasn't until then that Tamar brought up where the boy would be sleeping.  
Of course, there was no need for much discussion. Tamar was already sharing a hammock with one of the younger girls and the boy and Toyla seemed equally weary of one another. This left Privyet and his nest.  
The fire eventually burnt low and with it went any desire to be out of the blankets and then was when Privyet felt the boy seemed relaxed enough for him to ask. "Really, is there anything I can call you? It can just be a nickname if you want."  
The boy didn't answer immediately. He instead curled up in one of Privyet's blankets, pulling it high enough to brush golden strands of hair in an effort to keep the cold out. "I think you can call me Sturmhond."  
Privyet repeated the name, trying it out on his tongue. It felt like raw wood and salty sea and the screams of gulls. And strangely, like the boy it belonged to. Because it did belong to him. Sturmhond wasn't just called Sturmhond, he somehow embodied it.  
Privyet shook his head. What was he going on about? The cold was starting to get to him. He took the remaining blankets and wrapped them around himself, all to aware of the warm, compact body separated from him only by a few thin clothes.  
In the morning, Sturmhond was gone. Privyet asked Tamar, because nobody came or went without her being aware, and she shrugged and said he left during the night, because Tamar had long since stopped becoming attached to those who visited their dwelling. It wasn't as if many of them came back, at least not fully intact. If you moved away from the magic and the royalty, Ravka want such a nice place, after all.  
It wasn't until a few weeks later that Privyet saw Sturmhond again. He was trying to work on what they had began that one day, unfortunately to little success, when he spotted the unmistakable flash of gold and feeling of confidence. Even though it had hardly been any time at all, Sturmhond looked months older. Or maybe the details of his appearance had just faded from Privyet's memory in his absence.  
But his voice was the same when he leaned down, smiled, and asked if Privyet had missed him when he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this I almost made it one giant Hamilton joke because of the whole right hand man thing so just be glad I didn't do that


End file.
